Qeya River fables

for @Other Shore

star eater moved methodically, her paws sifting through the collection of herbs she had gathered, sorting them into neat piles upon the soft caribou hides that covered the den’s floor. the space was dimly lit, the glow of the morning barely spilling through the entrance, but it was warm—floral aromas hanging in the air, mixing with the rich scent of dried herbs and the lingering musk of her mate.
the stranger lay nearby, nestled into the furs, her breathing slow and steady. star eater had checked her wounds—nothing severe, only exhaustion that had claimed her like a storm. she would wake soon, and when she did, she would find herself in a space carefully tended, a healer’s sanctuary.
but even as she worked, her thoughts were elsewhere. sun eater’s words lingered in her mind, pressing upon her like the weight of a hand upon her back. stay near your den.
she inhaled slowly, quieting the irritation that threatened to surface. for now, she would do as he asked. but she was no delicate thing, no fragile wife to be coddled. her body still remembered battle, still knew the taste of blood on her tongue.
with a flick of her ear, she returned her focus to the herbs, fingers brushing over a sprig of sweetdust. it would soothe aching muscles, calm the nerves—when the girl awoke, she would give it to her.
she watched, waiting. the slow rise and fall of the stranger’s breath was the only movement in the den. outside, the sounds of the taiga carried on—distant voices of the saatsine, the murmur of the wind through the pines.
wake soon, she murmured, to no one in particular. i wish to know who you are.